


Anything for You

by 1848pianist



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christine is sick, Raoul plans a date and cute things happen because it's a cute ship</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starkswinterfelling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkswinterfelling/gifts).



> Happy birthday to Nelly!

_One more hour_ , Christine thought with relief, just as the director called her and the other leads over.

            “We’re going to be on a tight schedule as is. I need you to stay for a couple of hours after rehearsal to finish the main songs. It shouldn’t take long.”

            Christine could hardly contain a groan. Her voice already sounded strained. It was exactly the sort of thing that Erik used to rebuke her for. Tiredness was no excuse for poor technique.

            Exhausted, she sent Raoul a quick text before hurrying back to rehearsal.

            _Can’t make it to dinner – rehearsal’s going long. Really sorry. Tomorrow after rehearsal for sure._

            Until Christine, Raoul had never been much of a cook. He found that he liked it, once he had taken over the job. It was obvious that Christine would never have time between rehearsals.

            He was disappointed but not surprised when Christine couldn’t be home in time. He had heard the stories that he would grow tired of all the time Christine spent at the theatre. Or, worse, Christine would find theatre more exciting than home life – or him. Thankfully, neither rumor proved true. Raoul sympathized with Christine’s love of opera, if he didn’t fully understand it, and knew it was far from disinterest in him that kept her away.

            _Don’t worry. I look forward to it._

            Late that night, Christine dragged herself back to the apartment, where Raoul waited for her.

            “Happy to be home?” he asked, kissing her gently.

            “Very much,” she mumbled, yawning. “All I want to do is sleep.

            “Good idea.”

 

            The next morning, Christine decided that she would almost prefer being run over by a bus than going to rehearsal.

            “Please make it not time to get up,” she said dejectedly, voice hoarse.

            “Maybe you should skip rehearsal,” Raoul suggested, looking concerned.

            Christine shoved her face into the pillow. “Rehearsals are only to be missed if one is deathly ill, fatally wounded, or already dead. Preferably only if the latter is true.”

            “Actually, you feel pretty warm. I’m going to call you in sick.”

            Christine sat up, feeling dizzy with exhaustion. “No, don’t. I really have to be there. The lead can’t miss her practice.”

            Raoul shook his head. “Not a chance. You’re worn out, and I’d rather you didn’t fall under the last category.”

            Christine considered arguing for a moment, but sleepiness won out. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely getting the words out before falling back asleep.

 

            When she woke up again, the sun patch on the floor had moved considerably.

            “Good morning,” Raoul said, sitting on the side of the bed. “Or, really, good afternoon. I brought you soup.”

            It smelled delicious, despite Christine’s nausea. Also, she was freezing, and it was warm.             

            “Going back to sleep?”

            Christine shook her head. “I think if I did I’d never get up.”

            “Need anything?”

            Christine thought about it. “Tell me a story Raoul.”

            He smiled. “Well, once upon a time there was a girl with a red scarf…”

            “Go on.”

            “…and the most beautiful voice a certain vicomte had ever heard. Then one day, this particular girl was walking by the sea when the wind blew her scarf into the water.”

            “And you ran in to get it, paying no attention to anything or anyone else.”

            “Which is to say I’d have done anything for you then, and I’d do anything for you now.”

            “As would I,” Christine replied. “At least once I’m not bedridden.”

 

            Around six o’clock, Christine wandered into the apartment’s tiny living room, curling up on the couch and dreading going back to rehearsal.

            “Feeling better?” Raoul asked her.

            “A little, thanks to you. I wish my break was longer, though.”  
            “Would knowing we had a date make it any better?”

            Christine laughed. “I’m not going anywhere like this.”

            “No need,” Raoul said. “Dinner and a movie, travel not required.”

            “Pajamas included?”

            “Absolutely.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Christine said, making room beside her on the couch.


End file.
